


this night

by mendeshoney



Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 20:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mendeshoney/pseuds/mendeshoney
Summary: You just needed one thing not to go wrong today. Shawn is there to help.





	this night

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one shot/blurb/imagine - not a fic. We’re also going to pretend Shawn’s not allergic to dogs. Okay? And sorry if this trope is too overdone.

You felt like utter shit, head pounding from the stress.

You’d been stressed out from work, stressed out about assignments from your online classes, stressed from your mother insisted on berating you over the stupidest little things for an entire hour on the phone, stressed because your Uber driver drove like shit and you were sure you had whiplash, and you felt like all you wanted to do was crawl in a hole and die.

Days like this made you wish you chose to run away and live in a cave by yourself and never have any contact with the human world ever again.

The only saving grace was the fact that you knew you’d come home to your boyfriend, who would be excited to see you, and who you could have dinner with, cuddle, and just _relax._

It’s too bad that hope dissipated the minute you walked through the door.

Your apartment was a mess. Shawn had let his dog, Bailey, in and there were dirty footprints and dog hair all over your newly cleaned furniture, cans of ginger ale littering your coffee table, and the smell of something burnt filled the air.

Instantly your heart dropped, and you felt the stress of the day coming back to you a thousand fold.

Your boyfriend sat on your couch in all the mayhem, his X-Box hooked up to your TV, your cable box disconnected and tossed to the side. It was as if Shawn didn’t have his own luxurious apartment waiting for him downtown. He was making himself extremely comfortable in your small space, and any other time you would’ve welcomed it.

But today, right now in this moment, he was making you feel claustrophobic, like you were fighting for your own space and peace and room to breathe.

Shawn doesn’t acknowledge you when you come in, loudly yelling at his friends into his headset and it makes your head pound, headache increasing.

You let out a sigh, tossing your things to the floor and stripping out of your coat, hanging it up on the hook.

Running a hand over your face, you head into your bedroom, changing into sweatpants and a worn shirt, throwing your hair up into a lazy bun before you head into your bathroom, washing your face and ridding yourself of some of the day’s stress.

It doesn’t help when you hear your boyfriend yelling again, some nonsense about his stupid game.

And to think you were excited to be here with him. Now all you wanted was to be alone. In peace and quiet.

You dry off your face, putting on a little moisturizer before heading out into the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Only to find he’s eaten everything.

You had things ready to make stir fry, and from what you can tell of the dishes in the sink and scraps of food in the trash, it looks like he ate your stir fry post practice.

Which meant he’d been here practically all day. Living in your space like it was his own, using your things without a care in the world.

And again, any other day you wouldn’t care.

But today was different.

You were in no condition to go back out into the real world, and too broke to order delivery, but you were _not_ willing to have cereal for dinner or some measly sandwich.

Things were adding up. The stress was building. You could feel the tension pulling at you from every angle and you just wanted to burst. You wanted to fall to your knees and scream out your frustration, hoping flames would ignite from your body and burn the whole city down in its wake.

You were tired of _existing_, today of all days. And all the big things and all the little things were destroying you and you just felt…

Defeated. The day had won. At your expense.

You shut you fridge door in frustration, and it slams shut with a loud bang, rattling the magnets and photos attached to it.

The noise finally draws the attention of your boyfriend, who tears his focus away from his game.

“Hang on guys,” Shawn says to his friends.

He pauses his game, removing his headset and perking his ears up for more noise.

And then he hears it. The faintest sob coming from your kitchen. He looks toward the front door of your apartment and sees your coat and purse and shoes, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

_When did she get home? _He wonders.

Then he takes notice of the mess.

Bailey, who was now sound asleep under your coffee table, had left quite the mess after their walk earlier. And he didn’t realize he neglected to clean up after his pup, as well as himself, thinking of the meal he made, and seeing his mess on your coffee table.

He had every intention of cleaning up after himself before going grocery shopping to replace what he’d used, but he had been distracted by his friends and their promise of “just one game.”

Another sob comes from the kitchen, and he gets up immediately, his feet following the sound, where eventually he finds you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen in ratty clothes, head buried in your arms circling your knees that are pulled to your chest.

“Honey?” He asks, hesitant.

You look up at him, and his heart sinks. Your face has paled a little from exhaustion, heavy set eyes staring sadly at him, angry frown on your trembling lips. He can tell you’re about to break, can tell you’re ready to burst, but also, more than anything, he can see you’ve had a terrible day.

And he knows without a doubt the terrible mess he’s left all over your apartment isn’t helping.

“Hey, you look like hell.” He says. It’s not meant to come out the way it does, but once the words are out he can see on your face that they’re a mistake, and he knows there’s no taking it back.

This time you let out a little noise, before putting your head back into your arms and releasing a pathetic sob from your throat.

He’s rushing to your side, getting on his knees and pulling your curled up body to his chest, quietly shushing you, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it that way.” He curses himself, taking a look around.

Wordlessly, he scoops you up into his arms and brings you to your bathroom, setting you on the counter. “Baby, look at me please.”

Shawn wipes your tears away with his thumb, tilting your head up and urging you to look at him.

Your eyes are bright red when you do, and his heart aches. “I’ll clean up. I’ll clean everything up, and you just sit and take a bath, okay? Just relax. I’ll get dinner too, okay?”

He leaves you for one second to turn on your tub, grabbing a bath bomb from your bathroom cabinet and tossing it in. You watch with a sad smile as he takes out all of your “self care” items he’s seen you use before, laying them all in a line on the counter next to you. Next, he grabs your phone, pulling up your “relaxation” playlist, allowing it to fill the space at a comfortable volume.

You allow him to undress you and help you into the tub, Shawn quietly shushing your little sobs that are beginning to slow and calm. He waits until you’re submerged, gathering some of the color in the water and swirling it for you, and he presses a kiss to your forehead before he disappears, shutting the bathroom door behind him, heading back out toward you entryway.

Immediately, he opens your hall closet and takes out your vacuum, broom, and Swiffer wet jet, along with a giant trash bag.

Shawn gets to cleaning right away, getting on his hands and knees, elbows deep in your sink, getting his clothes dirty with suds and dust and dirt. He cleans your floors and counters, washing your dishes before drying them and putting them away.

He fills up a garbage bag before tying it off and grabbing your recyclables, bringing them both downstairs to your apartment’s trash area before coming back upstairs, putting new bags in and wiping down every surface with those cleaning wipes he’s seen you use.

It doesn’t take him long until he’s got your place back to normal. He tries his best to clean up Bailey before vacuuming your floors, putting everything away when your apartment is even cleaner than it was before he destroyed it.

Bailey doesn’t move an inch, remaining under the coffee table and looking unbothered by it all.

Shawn wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, clearing away the light sheen of sweat. He strips off his shirt, tossing it in your hamper before going to you in your bathroom, where he finds you still in your tub.

The water’s still a little warm, and you’ve got your eyes closed, resting your head against the edge of the tub.

“You feeling any better?” He asks, heading to the counter. He finds your sugar scrub and removes the lid, grabbing everything else he needs to be able to properly take care of you.

You hum out a noise that seems to mean “yes.” He greets you at the edge of the tub with one of your white fluffy towels, and helps you get out of the tub. You stand on the bathmat as Shawn wipes you down before laying the towel on the counter, lifting you to sit on top of it.

He takes a scoop from your sugar scrub and applies it to your legs, his tender touch calming you from the inside out.

You’re not as stressed or as angry as you were before, in fact, you’ve calmed down quite a bit.

You feel a little embarrassed that you broke down like that in front of him. You don’t know that Shawn’s ever seen you this stressed out before, but the more the fire calmed within you, the more love and adoration filled your heart with how compassionate and understanding he was being.

No one else you’d been in a relationship with had ever done anything like this for you.

“Shawn.” You say quietly. “I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you from his place on his knees, where he’s massaging the scrub into your thighs. “What?” He asks in disbelief. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, honey. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your place.”

You shake your head, “It’s okay, I-”

“_No_,” he insists. “It’s _not_ okay. It’s not okay because I know you would never do that to my apartment. And Bailey, ugh, god, I’m sorry. I should’ve taken Bailey for a bath the minute I knew he got dirty.”

He looks up at you, and you can tell by the honesty in his eyes that he wants to take your face in his hands and kiss you to show you how sorry he is. But, his hands are covered sugar scrub, so he squeezes your thigh instead. “I’m sorry, honey. You should never have to come home after a hard day to a mess like the one I made.”

When a wide smile breaks on your face, Shawn stands to his full height, bending his head a little to kiss you soundly on the mouth.

“Why don’t you finish up in here?” He says, gesturing to the other products on the sink. “And I’ll go order us some food.”

You nod, and he kisses your forehead again, washing his hands before leaving.

You finish up in the bathroom, scrubbing your whole body before draining your tub, stepping into your shower and getting rid of the dead skin and showering properly. When you come out, you wrap a clean towel around yourself, drying off before putting on your moisturizer and brushing through your wet tangles.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, you pad out into your kitchen where Shawn’s waiting with steaming boxes of Chinese take out. He’s setting them out into their own dishes when he notices you, putting the container and spoon down so he can gesture his long arms across the table, as if to say “ta da!”

You can’t help but smile, and that’s when you take notice of your apartment.

Your _entire_ apartment is clean. Spotless, even. You want to start crying all over again, but Shawn wraps you up in his arms, rubbing his hands on your back.

“You did all of this?” You ask in disbelief.

“I’d do anything for you.” He says honestly. “You know that.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, and he’s already smiling at you. You kiss him, gripping his shirt and tugging him closer to you. “I love you so much,” you say between kisses. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for anything.” He insists, pulling away a little. He brushes the hair out of your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Why don’t you come sit with me so we can eat? And you can tell me all about your terrible day and I’ll tell you how I think your co-workers can eat shit.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “Forget about the day. All I wanted was to come home to you, and I did.”

Shawn beams at your words, and he presses his forehead to yours with a smile. “I love you,” he says. “And I will always take care of you on your bad nights. This night, and every night.”


End file.
